


The Demon Barber of Yeet Street

by ElphieBLW



Category: Critical Role (Web Series), Sweeney Todd - Sondheim/Wheeler
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Theatre, Fjord's gonna attempt to manage these dorks, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Look I just need something light and fluffy in the disaster that will be this month, Mighty Nein as Family, Mighty Nein as Stage Crew/Actors!, Misuse of Headsets, Multi, Ridiculousness, Slice of (Theatre) Life, Totally pulling from my own experiences as stage crew, We're gonna put on Sweeney y'all, backstage shenanigans, probably no real plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:47:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27369760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElphieBLW/pseuds/ElphieBLW
Summary: A new production usually means catching up with cast and crew when you can during Hell Week and living in each others' space for the foreseeable weekends.  Hijinks likely ensue, memories are made, songs are stuck in heads, and set pieces are tetris'd at least three times a day.Occasionally, there's someone new, too.ORThe Mighty Nein put on Sweeney Todd, and I use them to tell my own stage crew shenanigans.
Relationships: The Mighty Nein & Caleb Widogast, The Mighty Nein & Theatre
Comments: 5
Kudos: 23





	1. Setting the Stage

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously, I've been sitting on this for a while (mostly 'cause I didn't want to actually sit with a notebook and watch through my copy of our theatre's Sweeney because someone decided they should do all the fast songs at half-or-less speed...), but this month's looking to be... eh, it's NaNo, let's go with that?
> 
> Dunno how much plot there will actually be, but it's bound to be ridiculous given the stuff I'm basing it off of. Enjoy!
> 
> (Spoilers for Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street shall be prolific in future chapters. Title's also subject to change, it's currently just a placeholder.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, the theatre calls us in early.

Beau yawned, nudging Fjord as they approached the back door that would open into the stage and stairs to the green room. “Why’d the Gentleman call us in so damn early, anyway?”

The half-orc shrugged back at her. “Dunno. Apparently, we’ve got a new guy on lights and he wants to do the majority of the movers before the cast comes in tomorrow.”

“Wait, what?” she gaped as she held the door open for the stage manager. “What happened to Yussa?”

“He decided to stick to just front-of-house!” a blue Tiefling called from where she was perched on the genie lift, finishing painting their dark London skyline. “He and Daddy are trading off nights to give the opening speech and greet guests!”

“Huh, finally decided to take the promotion the Gentleman’s been offering him for years, then?”

“Mmhm!”

Beau and Fjord joined up with their fellow stage crew, most of whom had already arrived and were lounging about on the freshly-painted black stage. One, a small green goblin, rolled her bright yellow eyes as she practically screeched, “Oh, great,  _ you’re _ our manager for this one?”

“Missed you, too, Nott,” Fjord grumbled back with a slight grin. Alongside the goblin were a tall woman with dark-to-light colored hair and a half-elf, half-dragonborn who was flicking through a costume rack, checking off something on a list. “Got you pulling double duty, I see, Calianna?”

She grinned back at Fjord, “Yes, but once the show starts, you’ll have my help backstage, for set changes and costume repairs!”

Beau groaned in relief. “Oh, thank the gods! Last time, Molly tried stitching up one of the costumes with clashing thread! It was  _ awful! _ ”

"I'm an actor first, Unpleasant One, and costumer second!" the violet tiefling called as he modeled a cape and flamboyant suit for Calianna. She made a few adjustments, then gave him a thumbs up and waved him off to change again.

"Ugh, what ridiculous character are you _ this _ time, Annoying One?"

With a huge grin, Molly burst into song in an over-the-top Italian accent, bowing with a flourish. " _ Iiiiiiii am Adolfo Pirelli, de king of de barbers, de barber of kings, e buon giorno, good day! _ "

The group rolled their eyes, mostly good-natured. Fjord gathered his crew to the front of the stage. "Okay, so the Gentleman asked us here to help our new lightboard set movers prior to Hell Week. I'll be calling stage positions, someone just head where I tell you and I'll let you know when you can move." At the sound of mass groaning, he huffed and added, "You're  _ literally _ getting paid to stand around all day, guys, phones allowed so long as you're listening to where I need you to go."

A cheer went up from the group, high fives exchanged among a few.

Fjord waved his arms, calling back their attention. "Nott, Twiggy, you two are on spot, head on up 'cause we'll need to adjust the brightness as we go through, too.  _ Take the headsets! _ " he yelled after them as they nearly took off at being told their positions. He sighed. "Okay, um, Yasha, Beau, and Molly, you'll fill in for Cali, you three are gonna be my runners on stage. Jester, is the Box ready yet?"

"Yeah, not bolted down yet, though!" she called back.

Fjord ran a hand through his hair, sighing. "Yeah, I think we can handle that. So, you three, you'll occasionally need to be on top of the Box, here," he said, waving a hand towards a large, square set piece upstage left. "It's gonna move, though, sometimes while someone's on there, so I'll need one of you to — "

Beau and Molly immediately raised their hands eagerly. Yasha joined Fjord in rolling their eyes.

"Cool, great, let's get started, grab your headsets."

* * *

Beau had been lounging under blue movers until they shut off a few minutes ago, legs stretched out towards the backdrop and head hanging back to see the stage below her, on top of the Box, calling down to Molly, who was in front of the meat shop sign, pretending to knead dough. “So, really, whatcha think this guy’s like?”

Molly shrugged, starting to juggle the bits on the small work table prop as one of the spotlights shone on him. “Dunno. Only Dairon and Fjord and the Gentleman have really talked much to him. Well, and Yussa, apparently he’s the one who suggested him or something.”

Over the headsets, Nott muttered,  _ “Yussa’s opinion I trust, but  _ **_Fjord?_ ** _ ” _ She scoffed.

_ “I’m on headsets, too, Nott,” _ Fjord grumbled back.  _ “We’re swapping scenes, hold for positioning.” _

Beau sat up, turning around and wobbling a little as the Box shifted just slightly. She grinned. “Do we  _ really _ have to bolt this thing down? This is  _ totally _ epic.”

_ “For our actors’ safety, yes. And remember to stay off the trapdoor, we’re still tweaking the lock on it.” _

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know….”

Yasha chuckled from where she sat at the opposite side of the stage, lit by a wide ring of blue lights and a pure white mover directly above her.  _ “Wait ‘til you see the set up for the Judge’s house and Asylum. The stairs up to the window are basically a ladder.” _

“Shit! Who’s gotta climb those?”

_ “Reani,” _ Fjord answered vaguely, flipping through his script and notes.  _ “In full dress both times.” _

Beau perked up a bit more at that. “Reani’s in this one?!  _ Sweet! _ ”

“Keg’s part of the company, too,” Molly practically sang up at her, smirking.

Fjord wound up talking over Beau’s excited yelping.  _ “Alright, next scene’s the Judge’s house. Yasha, Beau, wanna pull the House onto stage right?” _

Yasha simply nodded and ducked off her side of the stage, and Beau jumped, staggering as the Box shifted below her, then raced down the stairs on the side of the Box and over to help. The two got to the far end of the wing, up against the wall, and started to shove the giant grey set piece onto the stage, waiting for Fjord’s call on how far it needed to go. Once it was in place, each laid out a strip or two of glow-in-the-dark gaff tape from the rolls on their wrists along the edges of the set piece to mark its placement. Molly had already climbed the steep stairs to the window. He blew a kiss down to Beau, who huffed and flipped him off at missing a chance to play on the set pieces.

_ “Hey, we need someone around front for our other spotlight.” _

Yasha gave an acknowledgement and went around to lean against the House exterior, which started to shift below her. She jolted upright, and Beau and Molly both braced, as the human had moved onto the stairs to sit between positions.

“Shit!”

_ “Everyone okay?” _ Fjord demanded.

_ “Yeah, yeah,” _ Molly replied,  _ “just startled. Are there brakes for this thing?” _

_ “I’m adding a note now. We thought it’d be too heavy for one person to move on their own, but I guess we’ve got enough wheels for it to move easy.” _

_ “Sorry,” _ Yasha murmured,  _ “didn’t expect it to do that.” _

“Not your fault,” Beau quickly stated. “Like Fjord said, now we know.”

Molly turned to make kissy faces at her, causing her to swat at his feet and tail.

_ “Molly, face forward, we needa shift the filter on your light, and we needa see how it’ll play off your face,”  _ Fjord directed.  _ “Well, Reani’s face. Johanna’s face. You know what I mean.” _

Giggling crackled across their headsets for a long moment, then Twiggy gasped happily.  _ “Ooh, that’s a nice one, looks almost like light through trees.” _

Molly was posing in his window, Vogue-ing as best he could.  _ “How do I look, darling?” _

_ “You light up the stage,”  _ their manager stated dryly.  _ “Yasha, spot’s on you while we cut to black for striking, so congrats for getting out of shoving the big-ass House back offstage.” _

The tall woman gave a fist pump while Beau and Molly, who had practically slid back down the stairs of the House, groaned and started to push the rig into the wing.

* * *

“So, why’s this thing need to be bolted? We haven’t moved it all day!” Beau complained, slumping onto the chair they’d brought up onto the Box at Fjord’s instruction. Molly was downstairs again, flipping through his tarot deck, drawing, then shuffling flamboyantly again. The lights were flickering between their two positions, occasionally flashing different colored movers on Beau before fading out again.

_ “It mostly shifts in the second act,” _ Molly mumbled, having seen the show before and discussed some previously with Fjord, Jester, and Dairon as to how it could work on their smaller stage.

_ “It  _ **_only_ ** _ shifts in the second act,” _ Fjord corrected absent-mindedly.  _ “And it’ll shift  _ **_a lot_ ** _ then. C’mon down, Beau, we’ll need everyone spread across the front again.” _

“ _ Again? _ How many times does the cast just stand around at the edge of the stage in this play?”

The human ignored Molly’s offended cry of,  _ “ _ **_Musical_ ** _ , you heathen!” _ as Fjord responded with,  _ “It’s the way of showing when we cut to narrative. But since our movers can’t revert partway through unless it’s looping, each time needs to get programmed in.” _

“Ugh,” she groaned at the thought as she dropped into a sprawl downstage right since Molly had staked out stage left already, “hopefully the new guy can upgrade us.”

There was a bit of a pause where Molly and Beau shared an amused look, knowing Fjord was trying to find a polite way to ask before he gave up with a rushed sigh of,  _ “I’llseewhatIcando.” _

* * *

Beau and Yasha timed each other on the curtain at the intermission, Beau closing and Yasha reopening, Molly standing eagerly to the side with his stopwatch app up and smacktalk flying at Beau while praise showered on his best friend and “charm”. The results were quickly declared void due to obvious bias, but Fjord luckily cut in to stop the ensuing fight between Beau and Molly.

_ “Alright, sorry, we were trying to see if we could speed it up for this act, but there’s lots of scene changes, unfortunately.” _

Molly shrugged. “I’ve got nothing better to do today since Cali finished my costume.”

“Ditto,” Yasha murmured.

“Y’know I’d rather be here than home, Fjord,  _ please _ slow it down if anything!”

The manager as well as their two spots chuckled at Beau’s pleading before Fjord told them,  _ “So, we’ll needa spin to the oven side at one point here, so that’s the gray with the chute door in the middle.” _

“Cool, let’s do it!” Beau said eagerly, darting over to the Box and starting to heave. Yasha came over to help, each at a back corner to get it even before stepping away.

_ “Great, uh, it’ll turn back in a minute or so, so….” _

Beau blinked over at the resident theater nerd, who stood at the wing, cackling to himself. “...It fucking moves  _ that often?! _ ”

Molly practically crowed in his laughter. “Ohhhh, just you  _ wait! _ ”

* * *

“Why can’t we just leave it out for most of Act Two?” Yasha grumbled as they shoved the House—now Fogg’s Asylum—offstage for what had to be the third or fourth time in thirty minutes.

_ “Gets in the way a few times,”  _ Fjord offered.  _ “We’ll work on maybe more wheels? Since we’re doing brakes anyway?” _

“That’d help,” Molly grumbled, slumped against one edge. “I am not made for such hard labor!” he declared, tossing a hand across his forehead.

Beau rolled her eyes. “That’s why  _ you’re _ onstage while  _ we _ do the heavy lifting.”

“Sometimes literally,” Yasha added.

Molly gasped in offense. “Yasha, my charm, my love, my bosom buddy, how could you  _ say _ such libel and slander? I mean, Beau, I understand, but to hear such griping from  _ you? _ ”

_ “Be still my bleeding heart!” _ Nott cried over the headsets.  _ “Bulk up and  _ **_help,_ ** _ then!” _

“Nott, not you, too!”

_ “That is, in fact, my name.” _

“Oh, bitch!”

Beau could practically  _ see _ the steam rising off Fjord as he rubbed at his temples before snapping into the comms,  _ “ _ **_Focus_ ** _ , people!  _ **_Some_ ** _ of us would like to get outta here before dark.” _

“Yeah, yeah, sure….”

_ “Ah, fuck, wait, the Box should be turned to the Alley, not the Parlor still.” _

Beau groaned, running a hand down her face. “Great. Which one’s that?”

_ “Mostly the stairs, but a little of the Pie Shop.” _

Molly, Yasha, and Beau gaped at each other, then at the Box. Each side was its own room, other than said stairs side. So to see both at once…. “This thing’ll be  _ on angles, too?! _ ”

_ “Now do you see why we need it bolted?” _

* * *

Having been told they were close to the end and that they needed to be at the very edge of the stage for one scene, the group, joined now by Calianna, spread out and lay back in various poses. Red lights at the edge of the stage, literally inches from them, underlit their forms to turn it almost into a pin-up shoot.

Jester happened to be walking by at just the right time to hear Molly mention that, and eagerly took out her phone to get pictures, causing the four to mug up even more dramatically, like something out of Burlesque rather than Sweeney Todd. “It’s for our Stage Crew of the Month Calendar!” she teased.

Yasha deadpanned back at her, smirking slightly. “I call Miss November.”

* * *

“Thanks again for coming in today, everyone,” Fjord said gratefully to the group as they brought him their headsets for charging. “I know it was an extra day, but it should make tomorrow that much smoother with the lights mostly done.”

“Aaaand now you’ve jinxed it, well done,” Nott huffed, rolling her eyes.

The half-orc rolled his back at her. “Tomorrow’s the standard for Hell Week, six to clean and starting top of Act One. I’ll have scene changes posted on either wing and copies for you when you get here. We’ve got a good crew for this show, and I know you guys all work well with each other, so this’ll be a fun run. Sleep well tonight, no guarantees we’ll actually end at ten like we’re supposed to.”

“Do we  _ ever? _ ” Beau scoffed. “Dairon loves to say she ‘lost track of time’ ordering everyone to  _ slightly _ different spots all night.”

“Director’s privilege, Beau,” said woman commented as she brushed past them, flicking through a script and marking things off with a red pen. She tossed a quick grin Beau’s way. “Maybe one day you’ll get to experience it.”

As Beau stuttered in half-embarrassment, half-awe at her long-time mentor/crush, the group called their goodbyes and headed home for the night, the next evening’s practice looming before them.

Hell Week was about to begin, like it or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins.
> 
> Let me know if I need to explain more of the staging/lighting side of things, I'm sometimes tone-deaf on what's basic knowledge and what'll need extra details.
> 
> Feel free to guess at what jobs/characters people will be! This fic will be ensemble cast, so I pull DEEP into Matt's pool of NPCs for some things. Others will likely be obvious.
> 
> Stay safe, healthy, and sane out there, people.


	2. Hell Week: Day One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cast and crew get ready to rehearse Act One, but a few problems arise. What else would one expect from Hell Week?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sorta rushed this out 'cause I needed to rant/scream into the Void, and ending A/Ns is one of the places I do so. Y'all can def ignore it if you like, I just wanted something funny attached to it, thus this getting the update rather than Vernichten. Enjoy!
> 
> Let me know if terms are confusing, I've been conditioned into using theatre terms and might not remember when people need explanations!

The first day of the week of rehearsals leading up to the opening night of any show run was always stressful. Fuck, the whole  _ week _ was stressful, thus why it was dubbed Hell Week to begin with. But still, the crew could be found, gathered onstage in dark clothes and starting some music playing through someone’s iPod as they cleaned and swept the stage and checked over props.

Every set piece they currently had pulled for the show was brought out onto the stage so the wings could be swept, then shoved back out of the way in the usual game of Set Piece Tetris they played every scene change of every show. Then the stage was swept and mopped, the crew lounging in the front row seats as Fjord ran through the props list with them for each side.

“Alright, Nott’s Spot One, Twiggy’s Spot Two, Beau, you and Yasha are Stage Left, Cali and I are Stage Right, though we’ll need to cross several times for some of the bigger pieces, like the Box and the House.”

“Did we get the wheels, brakes, and bolt sorted?” Nott quizzed, her only-for-Fjord suspicious glare in place as she played Mom Friend and double-checked his double-checking.

“We got the Box bolted today,” Yasha offered, used to being extra muscle while Jester and Caduceus were doing set design, “so we’ll need to actually mark those angled turns.”

Beau groaned as Molly darted in through the side door, waved, and dashed down to the green room. The group, all-too-used to the actors coming in as they could until their call at 7, merely gave slight waves or nods (or, in Beau’s case, the double birds). “We’ll needa mark which is which, too.”

Not missing a beat, Fjord just tossed rolls of glow-in-the-dark gaff tape to each from his backpack—his Mary Poppins Bag to the crew for its seemingly-never-ending supplies—and mentioned, “Markers are at each prop shelf. As small and simple as you can so we can find them quick, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Beau huffed, flapping a hand at him absent-mindedly as she shoved the roll onto her wrist. “Box One, Box Two can do,” she recited in a sing-song.

Fjord rolled his eyes at her but continued, “The House had a couple more wheels added and brakes along the back, including one that’s tucked along the upstage side, so keep out of sight setting that one.”

Cali, who had apparently finished her last few adjustments until Previews, side-eyed him. “Are these  _ normal _ brakes or super brakes like  _ La Cage? _ ”

Beau and Yasha both groaned at the reminder of the heavy duty brakes used for the stairs in the last scene of  _ La Cage aux Folles _ that required flat-out  _ stomping _ (if not jumping) on them in order to  _ maybe _ get them to lock—all in the twenty seconds their Georges vamped before the curtain reopened, hopefully not on them.

“Regular brakes,” Fjord assured. “Red handle, pull down, that’ll set it. Let us know if they need to be heightened or lowered, okay? We don’t want any to pop during the show.”

Nodding met his words as the group continued to flick through their change lists, some just glancing and others highlighting where they had to move and what. Yasha was the first to notice a discrepancy. “Um, we don’t have two couches and a fancy chair?”

“Right, the couches we can grab from storage, Dairon’s got the chair coming in tomorrow when we run Act Two. We need them both to be Victorian style, one cheaper looking than the other,” he read off his notes, flipping through pages and comparing for a moment. “The Gentleman said there were a couple he thought sounded right, one off-white and more chaise-like for the Kiss Me sequence, the other closer to a beige from aging with stripes.”

The crew nodded, Yasha, Beau, and Cali taking their headsets as they moved towards the side door and scooting past the Clay siblings as they came in and went down to the green room. Outside was cooling down for the evening, Beau breathing a sigh of relief that they weren’t in their all-black, no-skin-showing backstage gear in summer weather.  _ The Producers _ had sucked enough with how many times they had to run errands in the blistering heat in these get ups.

There was some muffled noise in their headsets that they figured was just the long-range kicking in, then Fjord asking them,  _ “Hey, you guys see Artagan out there anywhere?” _

The girls glanced around the alley between the theatre and their storage room, seeing the actors’ cars where they usually parked for the evening but not spotting the slick green convertible Jester’s odd friend drove. “No, why?” Beau replied on their behalf as Cali typed in the door code to unlock the large room they kept all the extra furniture and large props the theatre had collected over the years.

_ “He’s gonna be late for call and mic checks at this rate,” _ Fjord grumbled.

_ “Wait, Artie’s in the show?” _ Nott’s usual shrieky voice seemed even pitchier for some reason.

_ “Yeah, he’s our Judge.” _

_ “...How? He  _ **_hates_ ** _ the theatre.” _

There was a long pause as Yasha spotted the first of the couches, then a loud staticky noise that they quickly placed as Fjord sighing angrily.

_ “And all our practices have been in the rehearsal space, not here, so no one _ — _ ” _

_ “ _ **_Jester_ ** _ ,”  _ Nott and Twiggy “coughed” into their comms.

_ “ _ — _ thought to tell  _ **_me_ ** _ it would be a problem or  _ **_him_ ** _ where he’d be performing. Great.” _

“Wait,” Beau said, blinking as she turned to look at the other girls, who had more knowledge of the shows than she usually did, “isn’t the Judge, like, a lead role or something?”

_ “Or something,” _ Fjord grumbled with the tell-tale clomps in the background of him storming down into the green room.  _ “Jester Genevieve Lavorre, why the  _ **_hell_ ** _ didn’t you tell us Artagan would bail?!” _

_ “Whaaaaaaat?” _ the incredibly-faint sound of a faking Jester could just barely be heard over the comms.  _ “Why on  _ **_Exandria_ ** _ would I have  _ **_possibly_ ** _ tried to trick you two into _ — _ okay, but,like,seriously,hewould’vebeenthe _ **_best_ ** _ JudgeTurpin,amIright?” _

Groans could be heard from  _ miles _ . Actors are dramatic like that.

_ “Okay,” _ Fjord’s voice cut in again,  _ “so now we need to replace Turpin, hopefully with someone who already knows all his lines, all his songs, and is roughly the same general shape so Cali doesn’t have to start over from  _ **_complete_ ** _ scratch.” _

“Much appreciated,” the half-dragonborn grumbled, already doing the mental calculations on costuming for whoever was their new Judge.

_ “And someone who’d be okay singing his version of  _ **_Johanna_ ** _ or we’ll need to rework a full scene….” _

“Why? What’s up with his song?” Beau wondered.

_ “It’s, uh, a bit, um, creepy and risque and skeevy?” _ Fjord offered, doing his usual job of nicening up gross details.

Luckily, Yasha was blunt as fuck at times. “He sings about fucking his underage ward.”

“Oh,  _ ew _ ,” Beau exclaimed, grimacing at the shock of it and slumping onto the second couch, knowing this was about to be a Story. “Why is that a thing? Who would even—actually, no, Artagan would  _ totally _ be cool with playing that kinda freak.”

_ “I’ll do it,” _ they could hear Molly call over Fjord’s comms.  _ “I know all the lines and I’m cool with being freaky on stage.” _

Yasha gave an understanding nod. “You’d have no problem self-flagellating, either.”

“He’s gonna  _ what? _ ” Beau’s voice was joined by Nott’s and Twiggy’s that time.

“Yeah, Judge flogs himself during the song. ‘Cause he knows he’s being creepy.”

_ “...Yeah, that sounds like something Molly’d be able to do,” _ Nott murmured in response.

_ “You’re our Pirelli, though,” _ Fjord cut in, obviously aimed at Molly, but everyone was tuned in at this point.

_ “For two scenes! Hell, I could do both, they’re not onstage together!” _

_ “Yes, they  _ **_are_ ** _ , Molly, and it’ll throw the audience if you’re playing two people.” _

“ _ You _ could be Pirelli,” Calianna suggested. “You know all the lines, and you can do the accents, probably better than Molly could.”

Apparently, either Fjord’s comm was loud enough or Molly was right up next to him.  _ “Hey,  _ **_rude!_ ** _ One of those accents is Irish!” _

“Which you tend to fall in and out of easily.”

“She’s not lying,” Yasha agreed, shrugging.

_ “How dare you hurt me like this, my charm!” _

“Prove me wrong.”

_ “...I hate you all.” _

_ “Wait, wait, I  _ **_can’t_ ** _ be Pirelli, I’m stage manager!”  _ Fjord finally came back, apparently shaking out of his shock.

“He’s only in two scenes,” Cali mentioned. “I think we can manage without you for  _ that _ long.”

_ “We can  _ **_definitely_ ** _ manage without him!”  _ Nott added.

_ “I don’t sing!” _

_ “I’ve  _ **_totally_ ** _ heard you sing before, though, and you’re, like,  _ **_really_ ** _ super good, though, Fjord!” _ Jester offered happily.  _ “You’d be an awesome Pirelli!” _

_ “I _ — _ That’s not _ — _ I’m not an actor!” _

_ “Y’are now,”  _ Twiggy giggled.

_ “This isn’t _ — _ Fuck.” _ Fjord sighed in an angry huff.  _ “We’ll need to run it by Dairon.” _

A cheer went up across the comms, both from their Spots and their actors. Fjord had been refusing to get onstage for years, so many of their recurring cast were happy to see him finally break down and agree to it.

Now to get Dairon on board.

* * *

“Oh, thank Gods, yes,” Dairon quickly cut in when the suggestion was brought forward. “You just saved me the headache of hunting down a last-minute understudy. We’ll up your comp for the production, and it’s just two scenes and the finale song in a show I’ve  _ seen _ you mouth along with during practices,” she shot towards Fjord. “Molly, get with Cali after we’re done tonight for adjustments, luckily you’re similar to Artagan in size, so they should be minor, and Fjord, you’ll have just the one costume, so that’s simple enough. Rework the scene changes a bit, see which actors can help with the few times you’ll need to be changing or on stage.”

“But, Dairon—”

“You’re great at accents and Jester’s been bragging for  _ years _ about your singing. Hell, Marion’s also said you hum or sing when you’re at their place, anyway.”

“Dairon, I’m not an—”

“You are for this show. Congrats on your role, break a leg.”

Fjord just sighed as Dairon went off to her seat, calling for a quick mic check and calling for their sound tech, Essek, to set up an additional mic for Fjord. “Dammit.”

"Welcome aboard, Fjord," Caduceus said, clapping a hand into the half-orc's shoulder. "We'll have a great time with our two scenes together." He smiled brightly down at the blushing man. "And then I get to kill you."

"Creepy Sweeney is best Sweeney!" Molly called from where he was doing a headstand as part of his stretches. Yasha was spotting him as Reani ran through a few of her lines and a few bars from _ Green Finch and Linnet Bird _ for her mic check.

Essek continued calling out for each cast member to run their checks, then yelled for Fjord to take one of the backup mics to test and have for his scenes. The half-orc grumbled, but acquiesced, borrowing some mic tape from Clarabelle before Molly and Jester did a flyby to do his facial makeup for when he was on stage. His own mic check was grumbled at first, but even annoyed, he couldn’t help but fall into the exaggerated singing voice Pirelli’s character called for. He received a round of applause by the end of his bars, prompting him to roll his eyes but give a flourishing bow.

_ “Why’s he bother with stage managing, again?” _ Nott complained through the headsets.  _ “He should join the cast on the regular so we can get a  _ **_decent_ ** _ manager for once!” _

“I’m  _ still on comms _ ,” Fjord snarled back, tapping at the black headset he wore. “And I prefer to be  _ backstage _ , not  _ onstage _ .”

“Alright, everyone!” Dairon called from her spot about five rows in front of the light/sound booth. “We’re gonna take this from the top of Act One, meaning closed curtain and all! I’ll let you know if and when we need to backtrack, so be listening and ready to jump about!”

The cast and crew scurried to either wing, Yasha pulling the rope to close the main curtain.  _ “Make sure the wing light’s out over there,” _ Calianna murmured, and Beau quickly did so. With the lights off, both cast and crew stood at the ready, the former hovering by the two screens in the wings that showed Orly directing the pit to start the entr'acte.

_ “So, we don’t have them yet,”  _ Fjord explained, _ “but as a heads-up, we’ll have one of our fog machines upstage right, and the other will be inside the Box for this part, along with our flood light, so someone, maybe two people, will be in the Box for the start of the show.” _

Beau immediately waved excitedly at Fjord, pointing eagerly at herself, “Call it!”

A sigh crackled across the line, but Fjord agreed, saying they’d be testing it tomorrow after finishing Act Two’s run-through. Yasha tugged the curtain open again, and the crew entered show mode, listening for the scene change calls and reminders for what needed doing or fixing.

* * *

Caleb was immensely glad that he’d requested to set his light board early. For all Yussa had warned him, he hadn’t been quite prepared for the sheer  _ speed _ with which Dairon ran their practice. Luckily, most of his movers only needed slight tweaking, limiting how much of the delays were his own fault, but still, the director had them run scenes a few times before she was satisfied, especially with the last minute switch of characters that had apparently happened.

“You’re rather good with our system,” the soundboard runner, Essek, muttered to him with a slight smirk. “Yussa practically built it himself from the bits the Gentleman could find for him.”

“Ah, he did  _ wunderbar _ ,” Caleb replied, tossing a quick, slight grin back. They were close enough that, if they whispered, they could hear each other and not disrupt an audience on show nights, so they did not wear the headsets that the crew did. Apparently, Dairon would be with them most shows to relay any issues, and when she couldn’t, Essek was quality control with backup from the two ladies on spotlights.

“The others they interviewed to take over couldn’t make heads or tails of it,” the drow chuckled. “One nearly short circuited the system.”

“ _ Wirklich? Aber, das ist _ —Ah, it’s quite a straightforward setup, though? Similar to one I made in my undergrad….”

“That’s the difference, then, you actually went to  _ school _ for it!”

Caleb stammered a bit, eyes wide, but a quick call from Dairon had him focusing in on his board once more, flicking to a new cue and twitching a mover better into place. Essek snickered a bit at him, reassuring him that, “This is what Hell Week’s for. So long as we’re running smooth by previews, we’re fine.”

“ _ Danke. _ Sorry, it’s my, ah, first theatre experience, really. Was, ah, burnt out from my last job.”

The drow gave a wry grin but also stayed focused on his own board. “Understandable. You’ll get used to the chaos by the end of the week. The Nine here make everyone feel welcome.”

Caleb frowned. “The Nine?”

“That’s what the main group call themselves. The ones who’re on for basically every show, be it cast or crew.” Essek pointed as he named them off. “Molly, Jester, Caduceus, and Kiri are usually onstage, then Calianna, Beau, Yasha, Fjord, and Nott are offstage. Though, apparently we’re switching Fjord to double-duty this time.”

“Is that, uh, common?”

“No, not at all. Mostly due to short notice here than anything, but usually you’re either cast  _ or _ crew, not both. But after the shows, we usually all head out to a local bar/diner to celebrate or commiserate, depending.”

“Sounds… fun?”

The drow shot him a knowing grin. “Not much of a partier, I take it?”

“Ah,  _ nein _ , not really.”

Both turned back to the stage, watching as a new song began and the cast bounced and danced a bit as Fjord (reluctantly) appeared onstage. “Nor was I, but you’ll find the Nine to be quite convincing.”

And somehow, a part of Caleb that had long been dormant sparked to life in the hope that maybe, just maybe, Essek would be right. Maybe these people would be able to give him a life again.

* * *

Onstage, Beau was the first to notice a problem as Fjord started his song. “The brakes popped.”

_ “Ah, fuck,”  _ Nott grumbled.

_ “Just on the stage left side?” _ Dairon demanded.

“Yea—”

_ “Nope. Stage right just went,”  _ Cali reported, darting out as Fjord wobbled atop the stairs. She braced it as Beau joined her and forced down the brake again. They stayed a mere few steps away as Fjord continued, but with the stomping he and Kiri were up to, the brakes popped once more.

“Take a break, guys!” Dairon called to the cast as she came up to the stage herself. She took the stage left stairs to join the crew in playing around with the brakes, first trying to see if they just needed adjusting, then quickly realizing that there would be too much movement for the brakes to handle no matter where they were placed.

Beau rubbed at the back of her neck. “Eh, we could have someone brace the stairs from behind? They’re hollowed anyway, so we’ll have space to hold that won’t be seen from the audience.”

“They’d need to be sitting,” Fjord added, “once we’ve got the drop in, if they’re standing, they’ll be seen through the curtain when Kiri and I enter and exit.”

“Okay, try it,” Dairon ordered, backing to the edge of the stage to get a good view.

Beau ducked behind the stairs, going into a sitting position with her legs folded and knees braced against the bottom edge of the stairs and leaning into the hollow and pushing her hands against the sides. “Ready,” she called into her headset.

Immediately, she felt the vibrations through the stairs as Fjord and Kiri went at it, jumping into the bit in  _ The Contest _ with the most flailing and movement to ensure their fix would function. A few minutes later, Fjord gave his final lines and chased Kiri up the steps and off the back, both jumping down and turning to look down at Beau.

“Good?” Fjord worried.

She grinned over her shoulder, “Oh, yeah,  _ great _ arm workout!”

* * *

Molly and Caduceus were practically giggling through their scene leading into  _ Pretty Women _ . The two always enjoyed working together, so starring opposite each other was especially exciting for them. Dairon had to keep them on track, but by the time Marius came up the Box with his line, the two had settled into their roles.

Caduceus yelling (or mad at all, really) was always weird to see, but Jester played off of his energy with her own as they ramped up into the Act One finale. Nott couldn’t help but complain a bit about how long her spot had to be on for  _ Epiphany _ and all the up-and-down Caduceus was doing while Twiggy got to lock her spot in place on Jester.

_ “Suck it up,”  _ Beau shot at her.  _ “I got my workout, now you get yours!” _

“No one asked you!” Nott shrieked. “Why the  _ hell _ is there no break?!”

_ “Because musicals,” _ Fjord and Calianna deadpanned back, the former from his spot still inside the trunk atop the Box where Caduceus had hidden his character’s dead body.

“Hey, aren’t you  _ dead _ or something, Fjord?” Nott grumbled.

_ “Wait, are they seriously joking around about cannibalism?” _

Laughter echoed across the headsets from the rest of the crew (and some of the cast that were close enough to hear) at Beau’s exclamation.

“Beau, did  _ no one _ tell you what this show was about?!” Twiggy managed between chuckles, barely keeping her spot steady as she was now following Jester, who was shuffling about downstage left.

_ “Not really, why?” _

Groans followed her comment now.

“The whole plot boils down to ‘Barber Gets Revenge Through Cannibalism’!”

_ “Oh, fuck! That’s so creepy and awesome!” _

_ “Welcome to theatre, love,”  _ Molly’s voice came across where he was likely hanging off of Yasha.  _ “It only gets creepier from here.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A wild Caleb has appeared! So, I'll be using a lot of my own experiences in this fic, and I'll say which are which in end notes. I'm also partially basing Beau on one of our crew, who only occasionally knew shows prior to working them. He had a few big surprises in Sweeney, lol. Experiences, here we go:
> 
> 1 - in the Box. I was the one to run the fog machine and flood light inside the Box for the opening number. Both our fog machines were twitchy at best, so they were headache-inducing enough, then there was nowhere for me to be out of the way without getting BLINDED by the flood light each time it flashed on. Even with my eyes closed, it was bright as FUCK.
> 
> 2 - brakes on stairs. These fuckers pop all the time. I was in Beau's position without her standard workout routine for a full run of Sweeney. It was tiresome, but hilarious, because I literally experienced that scene from below all the time and helped provide props to our Pirelli and Toby since I was basically folded up on top of them.
> 
> 3 - long-held spots. Not for Sweeney in my case. I was on spot for both The Producers and Will Rogers Follies, and both had super long spots on characters during either songs or speeches. For The Producers, in Betrayed, our Max Bialystock would go offstage for a varying amount of time each night, which was always a bit panic-inducing. For Will Rogers, the titular character has a long, LONG speech and my spot for the show had a faulty lock, so I was just stuck holding it steady for about ten straight minutes. OUCH.
> 
> IRL Rant, feel free to skip:
> 
> so. I've had a terrible time trying to write lately. I've had zero motivation for any of my stories, which, yeah, that happens often with me, but this time, my fibro fog decided to kick in like a motherfucker, too. This meant that I was literally remembering NOTHING that wasn't on a schedule. (I've always worked best with a regular, set schedule, which is one of the bigger reasons why I miss my daycare job, it was daily, it was the same time, it was the same order of activities, it gave me stability. Since COVID, I lost that job, babysat for a bit but always at different times on different days, got a new job that's always a long Saturday but varies through the week, lost the babysitting job because the mom freaked on me about the new job even though I'd told her all about it and what my new availability would be, tried to find a different second job, found one, worked for a week, then had it pulled out from under me 'cause COVID again. So I've had NO STABLE SCHEDULE since March.) That being said, it's led to me being kinda a fucking awful roommate because I flat out CAN'T REMEMBER anything my roommates talk to me about or ask me to do. I thought I'd explained this to them before and said that once I was back to something steady things would turn around, but I guess it wasn't doing that quick enough, 'cause they are planning to drop me as a roommate come January. This led into a major depressive episode and like two days of crying, a call into a crisis center, some good talks with my roommates about what I'm working on and what I need to, basically, exist as a functional human, and the start of getting into therapy with someone who WON'T make me feel like everything wrong with me is all my fault 'cause I'm such a fuck-up (I've had bad experiences with therapists in the past). Now, I come from a family where both seeing therapists/psychologists and discussing feelings/dumping our problems on others just aren't done, so I've had a serious amount of trouble even getting to the point of talking about anything in-depth with anyone, let alone people who are close to me. So, all this, all these changes, all this stuff I'm trying to get through, all the talking with my roommates, and I'm still gonna need to find a new place to stay in four weeks. It's been a crappy year for me, and this was kinda the worst possible way to end it, and for the first time in about four years, I'm back to suicidal, even on my antidepressants. So, I'm just kinda done. I'm hoping the therapist helps. I'm hoping one of the interviews I've got this week pans out. I'm hoping my roommates change their minds. I'm hoping I don't have to leave the place that I've been happier than I've been in my life. But if 2020's taught me anything, it's that all my good things will disappear at the worst time, so... I'm not all that hopeful.
> 
> TL;DR I've had a crappy year like everyone else and it's just hitting me really hard right now.
> 
> Thanks for letting me rant. Thanks for reading. Don't forget to love each other, people really need it right now.


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